Heat of the Night
by goldengirl2707
Summary: He stalked her, inching his way across the carpeted floor, feeling every bit the predator. It pleased him on some deep level that she was his, that this was his prey


**Entry for Jacob Black 'N Pack's 2nd Anniversary contest**

**Beta: ynotjacob ('cause she's totally awesomesauce)**

**I removed this once before, when a ConCrit cretin threatened to report me. So let's see if this one lasts.**

**Also, much love to Don'tcallmeLeelee from Printing Paws (where I am also an admin) for letting me adopt this banner. You can see it by following the link in my profile.**

* * *

_You're everything I ever wanted_

_But it's never enough, you're never enough_

_I'll take whatever I can take_

_Whenever I can take it if it ever comes_

_I hate you when you're gone, I hate you turn me on_

_I hate the way I need you when I don't know where you are_

_I love it even more when I find you on the floor_

_I know you think you hate me but I will always hate you more_

_I never knew until I got a taste_

_What a waste for what I had been through_

_'Cause nothing ever really makes that change_

_I'm so ashamed of what I did to you_

_I had to let you in to feel that rush_

_You were too much, way too much_

_I'll take whatever I can take_

_Whenever I can take it if it ever comes..._

"I Hate You" - Sick Puppies

* * *

He moved silently, just like he always did, his lithe and powerful body carrying him easily across the back lawn of her home. There was only a sliver of moon, but he didn't need much light to see. Hell, he would have been able to find her completely blindfolded – her scent was _that_ strong, and it was even thicker in the dense summer heat – and it made him furious.

_God_, how he hated her.

And yet, here he was, creeping around the large bushes that lived below her window, careful not to make a sound. Then, with only a pane of glass between them, he watched her.

She _was_ gorgeous, he could admit that. She was asleep – he could hear her even breathing through the window – and she was only wearing a pair of tiny girlie boxer shorts and a tank that was so thin he could see the outline of her nipples. He inhaled deeply; it was a rare hot summer night, and she was sweating in her sleep, making her smell musky, salty. The soft cotton of her clothes was sticking to her like a damp second skin, and she may as well have been wearing nothing at all.

The sight of her, so vulnerable and alone, practically _naked_, made his dick twitch in his shorts.

_Fuck_, he was already hard.

He seethed, clenching his huge fists angrily. Why did his cursed body react this way? He certainly didn't want it to – there was no conscious effort on _his_ part – and it forced him to remind himself why he hated her _so damn much_.

They weren't friends. They never had been. Perhaps they had _mutual_ friends, but mostly he knew her because this damn place was so fucking _small_ that he couldn't help but know her. And now she was _everywhere_ he turned, whether she was _actually_ there or not, because she was damn deep inside him that he could feel her with every breath he took.

And she had the fucking _nerve_ to think that she was better than him.

_Why_?

Sure, he had an anger problem. He'd always had a temper. And before Sam, he'd been willing to fuck up anyone that looked at him cross-eyed.

Sure, his dad was a drunk and never in the picture, but that was nothing new – at least, not around here. There were _plenty_ of drunks, but his dad had done a piss-poor job of trying to conceal it. His filthy habits, nasty mouth and history of womanizing didn't make him a popular guy with the locals, but his father's issues never really mattered much to him.

Sure, he had a record, but only because of that damn bitch Carlie he'd been fucking that same weekend he stole a Honda to sell for scrap. She'd been such a fucking pussy that she'd squealed to her parents the first chance she got.

And now _she_ seemed to think she was above him somehow.

_She wasn't._

They both came from the same small-town, rinky-dink shit hole of a place. Both had single-parent house-holds. No college degree. Not much of a job to speak of, although he figured being a fucking _wolf_ could count for _something_ of a job – not that anyone recognized him for it. It just was what it was, and he was just supposed to just fucking accept it. Bow down to his Alpha, and all that shit.

A twisted smile curled his lips.

Thoughts of his Alpha made him feel nauseous most of the time. He was not the sort of guy to listen to _anyone_, but to be _forced_ to obey, against his will, was mostly just fucking humiliating. And now he was getting a daily god-damn speech about what it meant to be a protector and how he couldn't shirk his responsibilities, and how he couldn't change what he was, or what had happened to him – _blah, blah, blah – _that all this wolfy shit was simply beyond his control, and how fighting it would only make him sick.

Well, what his fucking _Alpha_ didn't seem to understand was that he'd felt fucking sick every god-damn day of his life – wolf or not. He was _furious_, all the fucking time, and phasing hadn't lessened that pain. If anything, it only exacerbated the problem.

Pre-phasing, his bedroom walls had more than their share of holes – usually created by his fist. Post-phasing, he'd chosen trees – and only because his mother screamed at him every day about destroying her house, and he just got fucking tired of hearing her incessant screeching, so he took it outside. He could have opened his own lumber yard with the amount of trees he'd taken down, but it was the only way to keep him from _killing_ someone on daily basis.

And now _her._

_God_, how he fucking hated her. _She_ was the worst part of this whole god-damn mess.

But he was outside her window, nevertheless. Though he couldn't have stopped himself from coming here, even if he'd wanted to. His dick was _so fucking hard_ that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her.

This time, it had been more than 5 days.

137 hours.

8,256 minutes.

That's how long it had been since the last time he'd been here.

And then every time he left, he swore that it wouldn't happen again.

The longest he'd stayed away was a week. An agonizing, horrific week. By day 6, he'd had to jack off so many times just to keep his damn dick down that his _palm_ was raw. He'd had more wet dreams that he did when he was fucking 13, damnit. It was just that fucking ridiculous. Every time he closed his eyes he felt her warm lips wrapped around his cock, or her tight, wet heat closing in around him, and then he'd have to go and find a quiet spot to drop his shorts so he could attempt to be around normal humans for just a few fucking minutes and damn it all if she didn't just make him crazy.

_God_, he absolutely fucking hated her.

She stirred in her sleep, and his gaze flicked back to her. She was murmuring something, and even his wolfy ears couldn't understand it, but what he _did_ see was that her back was arched, her fingernails were gripping her light blankets, and a musky, heady, sweet scent was leaking out of the small cracks in her window sill.

_Shit_.

And suddenly, he was outside of himself, unable to stop his body from sliding open the window screen, and maneuvering through the space he created. It briefly crossed his mind that the window was unlocked, and it made him wonder if she had left it that way on purpose.

His muscles hummed in anticipation, his dick eager for her, and while it made him furious, he was even more pissed at his body for reacting that way. He didn't want to want her; he wished that it didn't have to be like this, but there was no way in hell that he would ever allow himself to admit that he felt anything other than hatred for her.

He stalked her, inching his way across the carpeted floor, feeling every bit the predator. It pleased him on some deep level that she was _his_, that this was his _prey_. He smiled, and it was dark and twisted, and it made him forget about the trails of sweat that slid down his bare chest.

The inside of her bedroom was hot, too, just like every other place in this tiny town. They weren't used to hot summers, being so far north. No need for every home to have central air when window fans would do. He inhaled and nearly moaned aloud with the way the heat mingled with her special scent. It was like he was _suffocating_ in her pheromones, and he hated that it made him feel like she was entrenched into every part of him.

He placed one knee carefully on the edge of her bed, watching the mattress dip beneath his weight, cautious not to wake her. It would ruin all of his fun if she woke up before he was ready. Then he lifted the other knee, until he was straddling her waist, his weight held over her. His dark eyes roamed the bed – her arms were already perfectly positioned above her, like she was subconsciously begging him to take her.

His gaze traveled lower and his mouth watered at the sight of her taut nipples, dark through the thin fabric of her shirt. If it was even possible, the sight made him even harder, and he could feel the strain in his shorts. He shook his head – _Why hadn't he taken them off already_? Then he smirked. _Of course_. Because it would be more fun having her peel them off.

He studied her for a moment longer, deciding the best way to take her completely by surprise. He wanted to feel her sudden fear, her panic, before the instinctual arousal set in. He wanted to feel her soft skin beneath his hard body, feel the vibrations of her moans as she writhed from his touch, feel as her muscles clenched around him in the most satisfying compliment a man could receive; the validation of his sexual prowess.

He blinked.

_What the fuck?_

He didn't want to think about her anymore, so he did what he'd wanted to do since he stepped foot on the green lawn of her backyard. He positioned the fingers of his left hand above her prone wrists, kept his right hand hovering over her mouth, and double checked that his groin was level with her waist – there was no way she would escape him.

_Not tonight_.

Tonight – she would belong to him.

All with one swift movement, he pinned her hands to the bed, silenced her with his palm, and latched his hot mouth onto her peaked nipple, sucking hard through the sheer fabric. He felt her immediate reaction; her hips bucked frantically into his, and the heat of her scream on the skin of his hand sent a shudder down his spine.

He looked up at her face through the thick veil of his lashes and he felt the twist of pleasure in his gut at her expression of panic. She hadn't expected him to come, not tonight. The fear was quickly replaced with surprise, and then anger, as he'd known it would.

He felt her teeth work against his hand, but he kept it firmly in place, swirling his tongue across her cotton covered skin. He saw her chest heaving out of his peripheral vision, and she squirmed, desperately for his oral attentions to continue elsewhere. Unconcerned with her anxieties, he moved to the other breast, lapping languidly, amused by the spread of moisture from his mouth as it soaked her chest.

Moving his attentions away from her breasts, he leaned forward until his mouth was level with hers. "Stop trying to bite me," He commanded, and she stilled instantly beneath him. He smiled at her obedience and it made her glare at him. "I'm gonna move my hand now." He didn't bother to tell her not to scream; he knew she wouldn't.

Her soft pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he watched her, wondering briefly if she would be willing to blow him after he'd scared the piss outta her by showing up in her bedroom unannounced.

"What the hell?" she hissed.

The intensity of her anger surprised him, but it didn't make him feel any remorse. His eyebrows rose in silent question.

"Get the fuck out of my bedroom, you asshole," She snarled, wrath twisting her beautiful features. "You need to call and _ask_ next time. Ask if I even _want_ you here."

His pupils dilated in fury and the heavy pants of his breathing echoed in the quiet room, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He hated it when she was snotty with him, and she knew it. It only made him hate her more. He didn't know how to respond; how _dare_ she reject him!

"I go out of my way to leave food at your house for you, knowing that your mother wouldn't cook anything for your hateful ass, and I called you _four_ times yesterday. Did you call me back? _Hell, no_. And you fucking thank me by showing up in my bedroom, uninvited and unannounced, expecting me to screw you?!" The volume of her voice rose with every word, and he nearly clamped his hand over her mouth again. "Well, fuck you, Paul Lahote! I don't need this bullshit from you!"

His eyes narrowed further until they were just barely slits. His body began to vibrate with rage. "Bullshit from me? Bullshit from _ME_?" His voice was dangerously quiet, and he saw her shiver, felt her fear, smelled her _arousal_. She'd pushed him to the brink now, and they both knew it.

He yanked her off the mattress and crossed the room before she even saw him move, and she gasped as his large body pinned her back to the wall, his palms pushing against the paint on either side of her head. He could smell that she was dripping now, and he saw her try and press her thighs together to keep the scent of her undeniable arousal hidden. Paul's dark eyes moved close to hers, and he enjoyed the hot little pants of heat as they flowed from between her pink, pouty lips. A low sound rumbled deep in his chest.

"Get away from me," she whispered, but it did not have the impact it was meant to.

Paul ignored her. He lowered his face against her neck, where she couldn't see his expression. He fought himself, fought between strangling her and pounding his dick into her until they both passed out. "_Fuck me_?" He murmured, his voice soft and laced with vehemence. "_Fuck me_?" He repeated, as if in disbelief. "You have no idea how you press my patience, little girl…"

She whimpered. He heard her lips open to offer an obedient apology when his mouth descended on her neck, gripping the soft flesh between his teeth. She groaned out loud, and he took it as an invitation to roll the skin gently with his lips, sucking hard enough to give her what would undoubtedly be an intense hickey. He pulled back to watch the dark mark bloom on her delicate skin, and his wolf rumbled with pleasure.

Her pelvis jerked into his, and it made him hiss. "Don't push your luck, little girl," he whispered, pushing his hips forward in reaction.

She moaned, very quietly, the soft sound just slipping from between her teeth, and he couldn't stop the shudder that rolled through him. Her thighs parted of their own accord, and Paul couldn't stop the deep intake of breath. "_Fuck_," he groaned, and before either of them knew what was happening, he had yanked her shirt over her head and attacked her mouth with his own.

His kiss was hard, and bruising, but her answering whine told him that she liked his aggression. Her tongue was scorching and sweet, and he hated how the heat of her mouth took his breath away. Her teeth nipped back at him, and he snarled when she caught his lower lip. He yanked his head backwards, only to move his attentions lower, back to her chest. He rolled one hard nipple between his teeth and she cried out, her hands automatically reaching up to tangle in his hair.

The moment his scalp felt the pressure from her fingers, his hands flew up, pinning her wrists to the wall. She writhed against him, attempting to force her chest closer to his mouth. He snarled into her breast, and the vibrations made her moan. With his focus was still on her shuddering tits, his long arms pulled at her wrists until they were straight over her head, and he transferred his hold on them to one hand. She tugged against his grip half-heartedly and found that she still couldn't move. He felt it when she surrendered to him, sagging against the wall, no longer fighting. He smiled against her skin, pleased by her submission. His now free hand dragged down her body, tugging on her hair as it traveled lower, sliding over her throat, over her shuddering rib cage, and finally to coming to rest on the tie on her sleep shorts.

With just one hard tug, her shorts fell to the floor in tatters, and her body now quivered before him, covered only by a tiny pair of cotton panties. He inhaled deeply again, his dark eyes meeting hers, and she gasped; he knew she could see the wolf, the feral darkness that swirled in his pupils. "This is mine," he growled softly, and he moved his open palm to massage one breast. She nodded weakly, unable to break eye contact. His hand moved lower, between her trembling legs, and he cupped her sensitive, wet flesh. "This is mine." One large finger pulled the fabric barrier aside and the digit plunged inside her with one smooth stroke. He bit his lip to fight back the groan that rose in his throat; _holy hell_ she felt good. She moaned unabashedly, her hips grinding against his hand, desperate for more friction. "This. Is. Mine." He continued, his tone possessive and husky with lust, and he emphasized each word with a thrust of his finger. She cried out as his thumb moved upwards to circle her clit deliberately.

He knew her body, how to push her straight to the edge, curling inside her to find her g-spot. His gaze was only for her, and nothing in that moment mattered except for the feeling of his skin so close to hers, her warm breath huffing against cheek. He watched as her body tensed, knowing that he had so easily worked her into a desperate frenzy, and couldn't stop the flow of dirty whispers into her ear.

"You think you can talk to me like that, little girl?" he hissed. "I am the Wolf, and you belong to me." He pushed another finger into her, and she whimpered; he could feel as she stretched around him. "This is my pussy, do you understand? _Mine_." His lips moved against her ear, his tongue flicking out to devour the sensitive flesh. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll see stars when I finally let you come."

He slipped his fingers out of her and his full lips tugged up into a smirk when her eyes flew open and she moaned in disappointment, but his wolf wouldn't make her wait long. He stepped back, his arms spread open in invitation. Her eyes narrowed before falling to his lower body. Her eyes lit up in recognition as she realized he still wasn't naked. She fell to her knees in front of him, anxious to rid him of his only article of clothing.

She tugged down the thin gym shorts, the cotton sticking to his sweat coated skin. He couldn't stop the smile that ghosted across his face as his cock finally sprang free from its confines. She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with lust. His breath caught as she leaned forward, catching the tip of him in her hot mouth. "Oh, shit," he murmured, reaching down to tangle his hands in her dark hair.

She hummed around him, gliding her tongue along the underside of his dick, and it made him grit his teeth. It had been too long, _too long_, and she was going to make him cum without even trying. He took a deep breath, refusing to let her beat him this easily. He looked down at her, watching her cheeks hollow as she swallowed him.

Her hot mouth slid over him, and he felt it when he hit the back of her throat. He smiled; good little girl that she was, didn't even gag. A strange sense of twisted pride rose up in his gut – none of the other guys could boast a blow job _this good._

"Yes… fuck yeah, just like that," he groaned, his pelvis rocking against her face. _Shit_, he'd almost forgotten just how good she was.

_Baseball, naked Embry, Old Quil without his teeth in…_ but then she reached up and cupped his balls in her tiny little hand, and he couldn't stop the orgasm that rushed through him. His hips jerked forward, forcing his cock deep in her mouth, and her moan of pleasure sent vibrations through him, and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out.

The minute she released him, he reached down and grabbed her under the arms, tossing her effortlessly onto the bed. He laughed at her squeak of surprise, but didn't give her a chance to recover before he pressed his naked body against hers. His head spun and he briefly wondered if it was possibly to pass out from an adrenaline rush. "Do you know what you do to me?" He murmured hoarsely. "I lose my mind around you… I can't… just…"

His hot lips fastened to hers, and she attacked him in return, their teeth clashing in a war for sexual release. His large hands hooked under her naked thighs, and she arched her back, desperate to get him closer. His still hard cock found her entrance and she squirmed anxiously in his arms. He teased her then, as only the head found its way in. The gentle nudging was killing them both, but it was worth it to him when she thumped her head against the mattress in frustration. "_Please_," she choked out, her eyelids tightly clenched. "_I need you_."

Unable to deny her or the wolf any longer, his hips thrust forward, burying his cock inside her heat with one solid stroke. "Oh, _God_!" she wailed, her head thrashing against the sheets. He swore incoherently, a string of muttered curses that meant nothing but an escape of tension as her internal muscles clenched around him.

She felt so good, _so hot, so tight, so good_, and his wolf hummed his appreciation. He began a steady pace, out and in, _all the way back in_, until their sweat-slicked skin slapped together. His mouth descended to her neck again, and his tongue laved the mark on her collarbone.

"Mine," he growled, his pelvis connecting viciously with hers. "This is mine, do you hear me, little girl?" He ground himself against her, and cursed out loud when he felt the head of his cock bump her cervix. "Oh_, fuck!_ Shit, you feel so god-damn good…"

She fought back, thrusting upwards to meet him, clinging and desperate. "Please, Paul," she whispered frantically against his ear. "Bite me, take me, _anything_, please, _God_,it's okay… _I'm yours._"

Her sudden declaration stopped him, and he stilled instantly inside her. He lifted his head, slowly, until they were eye to eye. He didn't have to say it; he almost hated that she already knew. The wolf inside him howled possessively as he lowered his lips to hers, their eyes open, never breaking their contact. He kissed her slowly, languidly, their tongues tasting carefully. He hated that she tasted like almonds and sunshine, and he hated how soft she was and how good he felt inside her.

But then his hands slid beneath her, and he easily lifted both of their weight until he was perched up on his knees, the bulk of her supported by his thick thighs. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and they never broke their connection, their lips moving delicately together as he began to thrust upwards into her once more.

He was drowning; drowning in the heat of the summer night, thick in the air around them, drowning in her body, in the moist depths of her pussy, drowning in the musky sweet scent of her skin, in the salty spice of her sweat, drowning inside her dark eyes and the way that they completely captured his gaze.

_God_, how he loved her.

She made a soft, frantic mewling sound, her full lips trembling against his own, and he felt her pulsing around his dick, so he pumped harder into her, his groin brushing against her clit with every thrust, the head of his cock massaging her g-spot. Her head fell back and her eyes closed, quiet cries slipping from her mouth, and the wolf loved the view of the pulse in her vulnerable neck.

"_Mine_," he hissed, craning his neck to rake his teeth against her skin. "_Mine, mine, mine._"

"Yes! Oh – god, yes! Yours, all – _fuck! Paul – I'm cumming, oh, God!_ – all yours!" And then she convulsed, no longer capable of words, her arms tightening around his shoulders, her thighs clenched firmly around his pounding hips. Her internal muscles clamped down on him like a vise, practically milking his orgasm from him, and he grunted, pulling her shoulders down to force himself as far inside her as he could before his cock exploded, and with it came all of his anger, all of his hatred, burying itself deep within her warm body.

_God_, how he absolutely fucking loved her.

Their breathing was heavy, both of them panting, and he felt her heart racing as she fell forward onto his chest. His entire body was quivering with exhaustion, sweat poring from every inch of his skin, and he kept his firm grip on her thighs, afraid of what would happen when he let go.

Inside her, it was perfect; it was warm and safe and sweet, and _he was home._

"I love you, Paul," she whispered, and it was music to his ears.

"I love you, too," he said, because he couldn't say anything else.

_God_, how he hated imprinting.

**I purposefully did not tell you who Paul was with. Obviously, Leah, Bella, **_**and**_** Rachel fit the criteria of no college degree (at least, Bella hadn't gotten hers yet and Rachel wasn't finished) and single parent homes (after Harry died, and technically Charlie is raising Bella without Renee in close by), and they all have dark hair and dark eyes... so I thought people could insert whomever they wanted. Ynotjacob asked if it was Bella, but...**

**Who do you think it was?**


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